the heart feels strange

beg 4 silence

pulled thru the dark

voices r plastic

citybelow

would u notice?

ashs fall

everysteppullingtight

beauty in endings

walking

This piece moves with the calm assurance of a slow journey. The oud begins alone, its tone clear and deliberate, drawing a line that feels both ancient and personal. Each note falls like a measured step, steady enough to trust, soft enough to listen through. The violin answers in long arcs that carry warmth over distance. Their dialogue feels lived-in, as if they have shared this road before.

At its heart is a Middle Eastern classic arrangement built on a gentle four-beat frame. The rhythm holds like the gait of a horse at ease, patient and grounded. The oud shapes tension in Hijaz colors; the violin releases it with smooth resolve. Together they breathe between restraint and release, between weight and ease.

As the music unfolds, the listener feels motion without urgency. The compás stays even, each cadence landing like a footstep on familiar earth. Small changes in phrasing turn light to shadow, shadow to light. Near the close, the instruments find quiet agreement. The piece does not end; it settles, leaving the air still and warm.

MOOD SPECTRUM

Grounded. Reflective. Warmly solemn. It rests between longing and peace, a sound that moves inward while the world slows around it.

Gentle Step · Oud and Violin in Slow Tientos

just a vocalist/lofi artist trying to find her way

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

New tracks tagged #studyvibes